


Cherry

by Frumpologist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Co-workers, Dom/sub Undertones, Edging, Established Relationship, F/M, Food Kink, Light Bondage, Oral Sex, Post-War, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Teasing, good girl kink, light choking kink, mild voyeurism kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:47:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26290600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist
Summary: Pansy works Sundays at the Ministry to catch up on paperwork... among other things.
Relationships: Cormac McLaggen/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 36





	Cherry

**Author's Note:**

> I had a moment of panic where I realized I may have forgotten how to write smut. Enter: ravenslight and LadyKenz347 with prompts: Cormac x Pansy + Elevator. What was meant to be a quickie has instead turned into what you’re about to read, thanks to a rope bondage gif (I'm lookin' at you, Ravens) and late 90s hip hop and R&B.
> 
> This is unbetad; all mistakes are my own.

The Ministry of Magic was always slow on Sundays, just how Pansy preferred. She strutted down the corridor from the Floo to the lift, coffee in hand and wide, red-rimmed sunglasses firmly perched on her nose. Instead of pushing her way through a sea of high strung, old wizards in ancient dress robes, Pansy was able to enjoy the emptiness of the lift as the door closed with no one else inside. She sipped her coffee and tapped her foot until the familiar witch’s voice came overhead.

“Level Three, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.”

The lift shuddered to a stop. A ding filled the space and the doors opened again revealing a long corridor with a dozen doors on either side. She passed them all purposefully, heels clicking against the marble ground and echoing through the empty corridor until she reached the fourth door on the left. Its glinting golden letters— _ Accidental Magic Reversal Squad _ — stared back at her as she swung the door open and marched inside.

Pansy set down her half-finished coffee and removed her sunglasses, flinging them off to the side of her desk. Sighing, she ran her fingers over the grainy wood and perched herself studiously in her uncomfortable, Ministry issued office chair.

It seemed as if she’d spent all her time in the field as of late and it left a mountain of paperwork left to be filed. Her ‘in’ tray towered over the rest of her desk and her pathetically empty ‘out’ tray sighed as if it were her fault temperamental Muggle-borns couldn’t hold in their accidental magic.

Pansy warily eyed the enormous stack. She really should hire an intern to tend to the boring bits like reports.

“Nothing like waiting until the last minute for those reports, eh Parkinson?”

Glancing up, and up, and up—blimey, McLaggen was tall—Pansy traced the perfect press of his trousers to the way his belt hugged his hips, then further to the washboard abs she knew were hidden beneath the fine, cotton material of his button-up shirt. Her mouth went dry the further up his frame she looked; broad chest, thick arms, sharp jaw, plump lips shaped in a damnable smirk as he watched her ogle him.

Crossing her legs, Pansy leaned back in her chair and tried to appear casual, though the maelstrom of desire cascading through her body was anything but. Her foot tapped against the wooden leg of her desk as she finally, painstakingly, locked her gaze with his.

“McLaggen.” Lifting her chin just so, Pansy allowed him the barest hint of a smile. “Is the life of an Obliviator so dull that you’re forced to haunt the office on weekends?”

His answering smile was blinding. “Touché.”

Pleased with herself, Pansy recrossed her legs, enjoying the way McLaggen’s hazel eyes dipped to the exposed skin. “If you’ll excuse me…”

“I’ll catch you later,” he said, tossing a roguish wink her way before leaving her in beautiful silence.

A stream of unsteady breath left her as she reached for her eagle quill and set to work.

* * *

The canteen was near empty at lunch time, save for one familiar, delicious body sitting with a tray stacked with food. Pansy grabbed a fruit cup and sat on the opposite side of the room, refusing to acknowledge his presence.

McLaggen wasn’t going to allow it, though. He never did.

Sauntering over to her slowly, he dropped his tray on the table beside her. She speared a cherry with her fork and popped it between her lips as she glanced up at his heated stare.

“Mind if I sit?”

Swallowing hard, Pansy motioned to the chair with a flippant hand gesture that belied her riotous nerves.

He sat and scooted the chair closer still, only an inch of space between their arms. The steel bands of his bare, muscular forearms, with their rivers of veins just visible through his tanned skin, rested against the table. She eyed the way he cuffed his sleeves around the elbows and had loosened his tie’s windsor knot enough to pop open the top button of his shirt and showcase the hollow between his clavicles. It took all her willpower to not reach out and trace the vee with her manicured fingers.

“Would you like my cherry, Parkinson?”

A molten flush covered her cheeks. Mouth running dry, Pansy licked her bottom lip and nodded. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

McLaggen stabbed the cherry with his fork and turned slightly so he was facing Pansy directly. He held the fruit out to her, eyes sparkling as her gaze flickered over his face. She reached out, but he pulled his fork back before she could remove the cherry from its end. A notch formed between her winged brows as she reached again, missing as he pulled it further out of her reach.

“That’s not how we ask for something, is it?” A shadow passed through his bright eyes, a challenge.

Her heart hammered against her rib cage and she swore he could hear it. Unsteadily, she planted her hands on the table and swallowed the saliva flooding her mouth. Peering up at him through her thick black lashes, she whispered, “Please.”

“That’s a good girl.” McLaggen rewarded her with a soft smile and proffered the forked cherry to her.

Pansy reached out again, but as before McLaggen pulled the cherry back. He placed a thick finger to his smirking lips and offered the cherry once more. It didn’t take more than a millisecond for her to understand what he wanted. Leaning forward, aware that the curve of her breasts were visible in her low cut top, Pansy slipped her tongue past her lips and wrapped it expertly around the cherry, plucking the juicy fruit from the utensil.

Just as she parted her jaw to chew, McLaggen’s hand found her jaw. He gripped her lightly, the shadow in his eyes dancing mischievously. “On second thought,” he said in a low, husky voice, “perhaps we might split it?”

Her eyes widened, heart fluttering wildly in her throat as he closed the small distance between them. Surely he didn’t mean…But as his lips ghosted over hers, patiently hovering, Pansy realized he very much  _ did _ mean.

Pushing the cherry to rest against the pillowy flesh of her lips, she felt his teeth scrape along her sensitive skin and tear the cherry in two. The cold juice dribbled along her lips as McLaggen pulled back, slowly chewing his half of the cherry.

Pressing his thumb to her lips, he popped her half into her mouth with a wicked smile on his face. As she chewed, he brought his thumb to his mouth and licked the excess juice off.

“Delicious,” he whispered, watching her mouth as she carefully swallowed. “Might I accompany you back to our floor?”

Though all she’d eaten was a cherry and a half, Pansy nodded at him wordlessly and allowed herself to be led from the canteen to the lift.

* * *

She didn’t need to see him to know his stare was firmly fixed on her backside. It was the reason she wore these particular heels, after all. No other shoe gave her arse quite the same lift as her fuck-me-heels. Of course, he could have also noticed the lack of a knicker line, too.

Another genius move, if she did say so herself.

The scuff of his dragonhide shoes against the floor was the only sound that alerted her to his movements. She sensed him, just outside her peripheral as if he was purposefully trying to stay where she couldn’t see.

It didn’t stop her imagining, though: his large hands gripping her hips, his plump lips latching onto her throat, the impressive erection tenting his pants as he took in her most flattering side.

“You know what those heels do to me.” His voice was just shy of her ear, blowing tendrils of her silky black hair out of place.

It was practically a crime.

“Do I?” she asked innocently, closing her eyes as the anticipation set in. Her spine zinged with desire as she felt his fingers ghost over the form fitting fabric on her hip. “Mm, afraid I’ll need reminding.”

A sharp intake of breath followed her words, but still no touch. “You enjoy driving me mad, do you?”

Smirking, Pansy remained silent and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

The lift came to a grinding halt and the announcement of the seventh floor chimed overhead. A tall wizard in a pointed hat climbed in, pressed the button for floor six, and shuffled to the side.

Pansy was hyper aware of the faint static noise surrounding them as the lift dropped, causing a swooping sensation in her belly.

Then she felt McLaggen’s touch.

A light caress against the curve of her arse. Her entire body came alive, buzzing from the faintest pressure of his body against hers. Frozen to the spot, Pansy held her breath as his fingers traced the outline of her bottom, dipping and climbing, trailing along its cleft to the dimple at the small of her back. He rested the heel of his hand against her tailbone and gripped the meat of her backside firmly.

Bouncing onto the balls of her feet, a low hiss escaped her before she could stop it.

“No need to worry, poppet,” the pointy-hatted Wizard informed her jovially. “These lifts are sturdier than they seem!”

The lift could quite literally plummet to the bowels of the courtrooms and Pansy wouldn’t fucking notice. Not with the way his breath warmed her ear.

She forced a smile at the old man and clenched her molars. Relief swept through her as the lift stopped and the doors opened and McLaggen’s body heat rescinded.

“Level Six, Department of Magical Transportation.”

The older wizard exited with a slight tilt of his hat, leaving Pansy and McLaggen alone in the ringing silence once more.

“Be a love and pause the lift, would you?” His voice was husky, deepening his already baritone timbre.

She didn’t move, save for dragging her bubblegum-painted lip between her teeth. McLaggen shuffled behind her. The rustle of fabric set her heart zipping off at top speed. But, she refused to spare him a glance, afraid that what she’d find would break her wavering resolve.

“I’ll have you regardless,” he warned, the smirk on his face evident in his tone. “But I’d rather not get caught by the Minister, if you don’t mind.”

Pansy sucked in a sharp breath as her traitor of a hand reached forward and tapped a button to pause the lift. “If you don’t want to get caught with me, perhaps fucking me in a Ministry lift isn’t the smartest thing to do.”

She knew what she had said—clarifying he wasn’t concerned with getting caught shagging at their place of employment, but rather getting caught shagging  _ her _ . No one had forgotten what she’d done all those years ago during the war. Her own shrill voice still haunted her, the words ‘ _ someone grab him! _ ’ was a constant source of her anxiety.

What a fool she’d been.

He ignored her, whether he caught the distinction or not, she’d never know. Instead, she felt him step closer and all thoughts of the past fled her mind. “Give me your wrists.” Pansy began to turn, but he steadied her with a hand to her waist. “No need to face me. Wrists. Now.”

Gulping, she reached behind herself to offer her wrists. “If someone tries use the lift—”

“There are dozens of them,” he reminded her, gently taking one of her hands in his and wrapping cool, soft fabric around her dainty wrist. It took him only a moment to have her hands bound in what she assumed was his tie. “Besides, it’s Sunday. No one will be around for hours. I could keep you here through the night and no one would bother us.”

The thought of being at McLaggen’s mercy until the Ministry bustled to life the following day sent shivers surging through her. She tested the binds on her wrist, awkwardly attempting to wiggle free of them with no luck.

His hand yanked at the knot between her wrists, tightening the tie as he stepped right into her space with his chest against her back. Voice low, his lust evident in both its timbre and the erection against her hip, McLaggen whispered against her ear. “What’s your safe word?”

Canting her chin over her shoulder, Pansy found his darkened eyes and smirked. “Cherry.”

A husky chuckle blew tendrils of her hair over her shoulder as he spun her to face him. His breath smelled sweet, steeped in the juice of the cherry he’d plucked from her mouth. Placing his finger to her lips, he ducked his head so they were eye level. “You don’t speak unless it’s to say that word, do you understand?”

With a demure blink of her eyes, Pansy nodded.

McLaggen’s large hand rested against her cheek. “Good girl. Lean against the door and spread those sexy legs for me.”

She obeyed immediately, widening her stance as her skirt slipped up her thighs. The cool metal of the lift door chilled her despite the thin fabric of her blouse. His fingers followed the path and dragged her skirt’s cotton sateen fabric further up until it was bunched around her hips. Forcing the bulk of the fabric behind her back, he pressed it into the palm of her hand.

“Naughty,” he commented, gaze lingering on the bare flesh between her legs. “No knickers at work, Pansy? What would the Minister say?”

Opening her mouth to throw a witty retort his way, she caught the flash of his eyes and the challenging lift of his lips, and promptly closed her mouth. Knowing the Minister, he’d shag her raw over his desk. As much as she wanted to torment McLaggen, she also knew that nothing felt quite as good as his cock between her legs.

“Good girl.” McLaggen rewarded her by slipping a finger through her slick folds. “Already so wet for me?”

He teased her with one finger until she was panting, biting back her moans. The pure delight sparkling in his eyes, that she was following his orders, shone clear with every swipe over her clit. Beads of sweat collected at the nape of her neck; the urge to make noise warring with the desire for McLaggen to continue touching her. She clenched her clammy palms around the soft material of her skirt to keep from crying out.

Seemingly satisfied with her self-control, McLaggen dropped to his knees and lifted one of her long legs over his shoulder. He placed his hands on her waist and yanked her hips forward. Pansy’s mouth opened as his tongue delved past her folds and flattened against her swollen sex.

By all the Gods, old and new, she nearly cursed. Pansy bit her tongue until she tasted blood and swore silently as her head slammed back into the lift’s door. She was desperate to sink her hands into his hair, to push him closer, deeper.

“You’re trembling,” he said, hot breath shooting tingles through her belly. Their eyes met and she wordlessly begged him to carry on. “Not. A. Sound.”

Her throat constricted as if magic itself had stopped her ability to talk.

And then he positively devoured her as if she were the lunch he’d left half-eaten in the canteen. His mouth was fire, blazing a trail through her slit. As McLaggen’s finger slid inside of her, Pansy’s hips jerked and her mouth opened to let out a strangled gasp. He seemed to be everywhere all at once.

Keeping silent was impossible as he moved over and inside of her with such vigor. Her muscles quaked with every swipe of his tongue, every thrust of his finger. His eyes dared her to make a noise, but she clamped down on her lips, refusing to break. Sweat broke out along her spine as her body crumbled towards its climax.

Finally, a whimper escaped her.

McLaggen pulled away immediately, towering over Pansy as he invaded her space with his spicy scent and hard body. With a hand lightly around her throat, he bruised her mouth with his, wasting no time at all curling his tongue around hers. He tasted like cherries, and something she decided was distinctly herself. It caused another noise to escape her.

His fingers tightened fractionally, and Pansy sucked in a breath through her teeth.

“I thought I was clear,” he whispered against her cheek, then trailed small kisses to the spot just below her earlobe. “If you can’t control yourself, I won’t let you come.”

A sharp exhale stole from her nose. Raising her chin, Pansy squeezed her eyes shut as his lips teased the sensitive skin over her erratic pulse.

“Can you control yourself?” He nipped at her throat while she nodded, not entirely sure she was telling the truth. “Good girl.”

His fingers trailed down the front of her blouse, plucking the buttons open as he went, until he reached the apex of her thighs once more. Bucking against him, Pansy sucked her lips between her teeth and bit down hard as two fingers slipped inside her scorching heat.

“You’re so responsive.” His thumb flicked her clit and he smirked against her throat as her breathing deepened. “This must be killing you, not being able to demand what you want. Is it driving you mad, Parkinson? Do you want to tell me what you want?” Licking a stripe from her collarbone to her ear, McLaggen chuckled against her wet skin. His warm breath broke her flesh out in goosebumps and she bucked against his hand. “Do you want it faster? Harder?”

As the words vibrated against her throat, McLaggen’s fingers did just that: fucked her faster, harder. A gasp built within her, but Pansy swallowed it down.

“Such a good girl.” He nipped at her ear. “You’re about to come all over my fingers, aren’t you, love?” Another swipe around her clit and Pansy’s legs quaked. She was so, so close when his fingers withdrew. “I need to feel you,” he groaned, bringing his lips to hers.

Her throat was raw, as if she’d been screaming for him the entire time. She yearned to reach for his body, those solid muscles beneath his shirt, the large erection pressed against her thigh. Struggling against the binds around her wrists, Pansy stomped her heel hard into the floor and glared at McLaggen’s cheeky smirk.

He drove her bloody crazy.

“Have something to say?” Hazel eyes ducked to her level, sparkling with excitement. He rewarded her with a crooked smile when Pansy shook her head. “Lift your hands over your head.”

She obeyed without hesitation as McLaggen muttered a wandless incantation, a sticking charm. Swallowing hard, Pansy squeezed her thighs together. How did she always wind up half naked and at a disadvantage with this floppy-haired prat?

Her eyes narrowed, and it earned a single, dark laugh from him. “You’re so fucking adorable when you’re pissed off.”

Pansy jerked her chin to the side; her body trembled with need and he thought this was  _ adorable? _

With a gentle hand, McLaggen moved her jaw so she was forced to look into his eyes. His eyes flickered between hers, down to her lips, and up again. The fire in her belly exploded; she really loved his eyes—he wore all his emotion there. Despite that he would take her every which way and edge her to the point of insanity, all of his emotions flitted through his eyes; they were the window to his soul and always caught her off guard.

A brow lifted pointedly over his eye. “Should I stop playing with you now?” 

Ugh, she was lost to him and he had absolutely no idea how far she’d fallen. Trying to turn his attention away from any feelings that might express themselves through her eyes, Pansy arched her back, begging him silently as he dropped his trousers and stepped out of them.

Deftly taking the globe of Pansy’s arse in his hands, he lifted her and arranged her legs around his waist. “We should be getting back to the office, don’t you think?”

Pansy’s eyes widened. She followed his reach towards the buttons on the paneling and opened her mouth to speak, to ask him if he was out of his damn mind, but was cut off with one amused, challenging glance. He gave her a moment, but when she chewed on her lip and said nothing, he pressed the button to unpause the lift.

As the lift dropped, McLaggen sheathed himself inside of her. The combination of her stomach swooping with the fall and being filled impossibly tight had her nearly coming over him immediately. With a groan, he wrapped his hands around her hips and slammed forward, pinning her against the door.

He took her hard and fast, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips. Every jolt of the lift sent her arousal careening towards the edge. The little moans of appreciation for the way he railed into her couldn’t be silenced. She was sure he wasn’t paying attention anyway, so lost to the feel of her walls clenching around him, the way her thighs tightened around his hips. His mouth latched onto the side of her neck and he bit down lightly with a growl.

With a vague gesture towards the binding on her wrists, McLaggen released her hands and pulled her from the door, spun, and crashed her against the opposite wall. She’d be sore tomorrow from the way he tossed her around, but she didn’t care—not as long as he kept fucking her with those deep, quick thrusts that heated her core so deliciously.

“Scream for me, Parkinson. I want to hear you now.”

She didn’t need telling twice. The noise wrenched from her lungs was laced with pleasure and desperation as she encircled McLaggen’s neck and rocked herself into his thrusts. Her cries echoed through the lift, mixing with his hoarse breaths, until she was sent crashing through her orgasm. Vision whiting out, Pansy stiffened as McLaggen drove himself to his own end and dropped his forehead to her shoulder with a loud, feral groan.

She’d never tire of hearing just how much pleasure he took from her, the pleasure they shared.

As he softened inside her, McLaggen peppered Pansy’s chest, neck, and then face with kisses, a little laugh decorating his heavy breaths. “You’re so fucking sexy, Parkinson.”

Pansy preened under his praise. Sighing against his lips, she released her vice-like grip around his neck, and gently lowered her legs to the ground.

An intrusive  _ ding _ filled the space. “Level Three: Department of Magical Acc—.”

“Shit!” Cormac lunged backward, tripping over his feet and nearly plowed face first into the paneling as his hand crashed into the buttons. The doors jolted as if they couldn’t decide whether to open. “Believe it or not, I don’t actually want anyone to see what we get up to here on Sundays,” he chuckled shakily, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s hard to believe that with the way you were groping me when that bloke was here.” Pansy sorted herself out, skirt smoothed and shirt buttoned, as McLaggen pulled his trousers over his hips.

“That’s just Fletcher,” McLaggen said, waving off her concerns with a grin. “He schedules the Knight Bus.”

“Do you know  _ everyone _ in this godforsaken place?” Crossing her arms over her chest, Pansy leaned back against the paneling.

“Just about.” He shrugged, shifting nervously under her unrelenting gaze. “Dad’s big into networking. Says the fast track to becoming Minister of Magic is knowing everyone’s name.”

Raising a brow, Pansy quirked her lips. “That wouldn’t be why you pursued me, would it? And here I thought you just really loved grabbing my arse.”

While Pansy enjoyed the way McLaggen could command her during sex, she absolutely loved watching him squirm once they came down from the high. Almost as if he were guilty of committing some high crime, a blush spread over his cheeks.

“No, that’s not—”

She laughed and he cursed, realizing he’d risen to her bait. Something soothing settled over her at his admission, though, and it didn’t entirely repulse her. Sauntering forward, Pansy placed a delicate hand on his chest and snickered softly.

“Oh, you  _ do _ fancy me, don’t you,” she said, running her fingers in little patterns and enjoying the way his heart stuttered.

He raised a hand to her cheek. “If I haven’t made myself clear, Pansy, yes—yes, I do fancy you quite a bit.”

Emotions right on his sleeve like a former-fucking-Gryffindor. Pansy shook her head, a little titter wrapping itself in her hitched breath. Before she knew what she was doing, she invited him over to her place. “Come to mine tonight.”

And then it was her turn to blush as a smile dimpled his cheeks. “Alright.”

Reaching to the side, Pansy pressed the button for Level Three and backed away from him.

The door sprang open, and as if the lift was afraid they’d close the doors again, it rushed to say, “Level Three: Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.”

Sidestepping McLaggen, Pansy sashayed out of the lift and down the long corridor to the fourth door on the left. As she pushed the door open, she glanced over her shoulder to watch him open the door to the Obliviator Squad’s office. They shared a secretive smile.

“Oh and McLaggen?”

He turned fully, jerking his chin up. “Yeah?”

Letting her gaze travel the length of him, from dragonhide boots to perfectly coiffed hair, Pansy licked her bottom lip as her eyes settled back on his. “Bring cherries, would you?”

As he choked his reply, she left him alone in the corridor and resolved to finish all her sodding reports in record time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! :)


End file.
